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The Slow Boat to Ko Kret

My standard travel plans are usually a tad unrealistic. There was that memorable three hour trip from Bangkok airport to Khao San road (a trip that should take 45 minutes). Also worthy of note was the 12 hours of transit I suffered through in order to spend 36 hours in Key West (all worth it to see good friends tie the knot, of course). We can’t leave out the day trip to Ayutthaya which became an overnight trip when I neglected to check both ferry and train times. And then there were the trains and planes that I just forgot to take during my trip to India. As my friend Linnea once pointed out, I always get where I’m going, but I do it in the most difficult way possible.

Apparently, I also have a very poor memory when it comes to travel discomfort. For example, I just booked a two day trip to Taipei which will involve an arrival at 4:20am. I sit here, right now, simultaneously convinced that I will be completely fine, and that I will experience yet another travel disaster. If you’re a betting man, place money on the latter.  Although on the bright side, this upcoming lesson might succeed in dissuading me from planning to visit three countries in seven weeks this fall. Or not. Bet on the latter.

Since Bangkok is so very Western, and so very convenient, I sometimes forget that travel here can actually take a fair amount of time. Once you leave the comfortable safety of the BTS things slow down dramatically. I had yet another lesson in this on a recent Friday. Based on recommendations from both guidebooks and co-workers I had decided to spend my day off exploring Ko Kret. This manmade island just on the outskirts of Bangkok is home to one of the last traditional Mon communities (the Mon people arrived in Thailand about 300 years ago after the Burmese sacked their capital city.) From what I read, Ko Kret seemed like an island oasis in the midst of the Bangkok insanity, a place where cars were forbidden, and locals maintained ancient artisanal pottery techniques. On weekends it gets quite crowded with Bangkok citizens (Bangkokians? Bangkokers?), as the island is also home to a kick-ass weekend market. Of course, I only have Fridays off, so there was no chance to see the weekend market. Half the things I read said weekends were awful, but weekdays were delightfully tranquil; the other half said weekdays were pointless due to the lack of market. I figured I should take my chances on a weekday, seeing as that was my only option.

This is one of the unfortunate aspects of my job: I basically work every weekend. This means that I get to avoid rush hour and standard weekend crowds. It also means that I don’t get to experience the full impact of most touristy things. This was the case in Taiwan as well. Of course, my job is also the reason that I’ve had the extreme good fortune to even enter these countries, so I’m really not complaining. It is worth mentioning, however, that when I travel in my country of current residence I don’t have the typical tourist experience.

Somehow I decided that it would only take an hour to get from my home in central Bangkok up north to Ko Kret. I have no idea where I got that time estimate from. Maybe a hold-over from my Inwood days, when everything in Manhattan was basically an hour away? Who knows? The point is, getting to Ko Kret involves a train to a boat to a cab to a ferry. Two hours total on the way there, three hours on the way back (an extra hour to accommodate Bangkok traffic and incompetent cab drivers). My time on the island only totaled about four hours, but they were four lovely hours.

The leaning stupa, a Ko Kret landmark.

"Begone, foul farang!"

The Ko Kret ferry costs 2 baht (about 5 cents) and deposits you at a sleepy temple complex filled with vendors, bike rentals, and Wats. As I mentioned above, cars are not allowed on Ko Kret (motorbikes are, of course, since they act as extensions of legs here in Asia). The two transit options are bike and foot, so I grabbed a bike for the day (40 baht, or about $1). The island has a clear tourist path running around it, which I was repeatedly “encouraged” to stick to (in other words, when I tried to deviate I was promptly told, “No! No! Other way!” This was accompanied by the waving of arms.) The loop takes you through the market and the pottery villages. Pottery is a really big deal among the Mon, and rightly so, since their work is beautiful. The villages themselves were clustered around large, (mostly) non-functioning kilns. As expected, these villages were extremely quiet while I was there. I believe on weekends you can try your hand at throwing pottery, but of course none of that was happening on a sleepy Friday afternoon. The place had the feel of a ghost town, which I actually kind of liked. As I meandered around the loop I heard the sound of Thai soap operas coming from almost every home. In the main pottery village there was an open-air museum/shop which was, well, open. You could just wander in and steal things. I spent a hilariously long time standing in front of it, waiting for someone to yell at me, before finally walking in and exploring some of the more unusual pieces.

I totally could have fit this in my bag.

The main draw-back to visiting tourist towns on non-tourist days is the food. There were a variety of Mon specialties that I was really excited to try, but since most shops were closed I couldn’t find them. I did try tod mun pla nor gala, which I assume translates to “lovely fried fish cake”. I’ve seen these in a number of places and had always been hesitant to try them since I’m not a fan of fish balls, but my sources told me that these were elevated to a new level with the inclusion of some unique, local spices and herbs. I can confidently report back that these are absolutely delicious. The individual fish cakes are small and light, suffused with basil and ginger, and covered with a sweet chili sauce. A few cucumber slices cooled down the heat. I devoured a plate upon arrival, and they sustained me as I traveled past many, many closed restaurants.

Best thing (and only thing) I ate all day.

I didn’t spend too much time in the temples, because I’m slightly temple-d out. I explored the first one, a beautiful structure with flamboyant golden birds standing proudly in front of the entrance, and a statue of a seated monk who seems to be looking at the sky asking, “Are you there, God? It’s me, monk.” Or perhaps his monk bowl is actually an elaborate scrabble receptacle and he’s averting his eyes as he picks his letters. Two very likely possibilities. This temple also had a fortune telling machine which I tried out, taking particular care not to wish for anything along the lines of “being big”. Tom Hanks, you taught me well. Instead, I found out that I’m like a fish transforming into a dragon. So, I’m not a true dragon. I’m more like the cousin of dragons. But that’s better than being a fucking Tully, so I’ll take it.   

No peeking!

Despite my usual reluctance to purchase items larger than jewelry during my travels, I could not resist the Mon pottery. They produce a kind of non-glazed terra cotta covered bowl, carved with intricate dashes, almost like leaves. The bowls come in many guises (candle holder, incense holder, cup, etc.), but the exteriors of each all follow the same general design. There were lots of items available at the few shops open in the market, but I found my pieces down a tiny alley. As I rode beyond the first wat, I noticed a sign that said “Pottery” and an arrow pointing down the small walkway. I turned down the path and saw another, smaller sign that said, “Welcome Pottery”. How could I resist? I walked through the wooden fence into a tiny courtyard, past a man treating the inside of a massive pot. The front of the house was open, revealing a dim living room with a modest collection of wares. I slipped my shoes off and stepped onto the cool tiles, past a collection of adorable, meowing kittens. From what I gathered with my non-existent Thai, the business was run by a husband and wife team, the wife being the artisan. She showed me a few pieces, and then took out a laminated newspaper article, presumably about pottery, perhaps her own. That was my guess, anyway, since she kept pointing from the article to the bowl I was holding. I have no basis to say whether her pottery was better than other pottery on the island, but I liked her, the kittens were cute, and the price was reasonable. So I now own a Mon teacup and a candle holder, which will necessitate the purchase of a new suitcase. Ah, tourism.

I think we're going to need a bigger boat.

As mentioned above, I didn’t spend too much time on the island. But it was refreshing to leisurely bike past thick groves of palm trees, with wooden-stilt houses peeking through the foliage. Furthermore, while I was frustrated by the amount of travel time, the ride itself was actually not too bad. I spent most of that time on the Chao Phraya “Express” boat, which cuts through the center of Bangkok in a decidedly non-express way (the boat stops 30, count ‘em, 30 times.) There was good people watching, we were followed by schools of catfish, and I enjoyed the occasional invigorating spray of astoundingly polluted water as we skimmed across the river.

This view is totally worth
the toxic skin disease I acquired from the river spray.

Ko Kret was the latest in a plan of sorts, which is to cover the less common Bangkok day trips. I did the big ones last year (Ayutthaya, Amphawa, Khao Yai), and while I certainly wouldn’t mind visiting those places again, I’d like to go farther afield this time around. I want to explore places that many Western tourists may never even hear about. I want to challenge myself with language difficulties and ridiculous transit options. To that end, tomorrow I will make a pilgrimage to a 250 ton, three-headed copper elephant. What could possibly go wrong?    

Hope springs eternal.

Farewell, Ko Kret!